Teaching Love

I Corinthians 13:13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Teenagers are strange creatures. When I was in college, people would look at me with raised eyebrows and gapping mouths when I spoke of my major and intentions to teach high school. “Why?” they would ask. I thought, why not?

Let me dispel myths that teaching any age compared to another is “easy.” I’ve worked with all ages of children, and teenagers just happen to be what I like the most. Teenagers have driven me to the point of wanting to pull my hair out, but one afternoon with my daughter’s Kindergarten class filled with waist-high people was all it took to reassure myself that teenagers aren’t so bad. The Kindergartener (like my daughter) who has to pee every thirty minutes is no more or less frustrating than the sophomore who asks to be excused every class period. A teacher of any age group must have the passion and heart to handle the group as a whole while simultaneously meeting the needs of the individual. It’s a huge task for teachers.

I think that most teachers, and parents, can empathize with what follows to some degree. Basic sociology teaches us that we all have many different roles and identities in life. Teachers are time keepers, organizers, planners, motivators, and encouragers. We are responsible for maintaining a controlled and safe environment for learning. We want to be a friend, a trusted person, in the lives of our students, but we must maintain discipline in the classroom. We have procedures to follow and procedures to enforce in order to have an environment that fosters learning.

As my first year of teaching comes to a close, I think about everything my students have taught me this year. They have helped teach me in ways that only another teacher can understand. Every lesson did not go exactly as I had planned. There were good days and hard days. There were days I knew my students listened, days when I wondered if they even heard a word I said, and days when it was my turn to listen.
In an English class, we have the opportunity to study literature and universal themes that apply to each of us in different ways. The perspectives that my students bring to the classroom are often very different from mine, because their lives and lived experiences are so different from me and each other. We read Nicholas Sparks’ novel A Walk to Remember. It’s a wonderful book about growing up, making choices, and losing a loved one. It lends itself to discussions about Christianity, God’s plan, facing one’s own mortality, and love. They groaned at first. The guys said it was a “chick book” and made fun of it. But by the end, I think we had all grown from our discussions.

Love is a universal theme that we can all relate to. It is something we crave, we must have it for survival; it’s something we truly need. If love is not found in the right places, it will be sought after from the wrong places. Boy or girl, tall or short, gay or straight, skinny or fat, believer, or non-believer, young or old…it doesn’t matter. Love transcends skin color and ethnicity and language. We all struggle to fit in, to find our place, and to be loved.

I am expected to teach many things like grammar and literacy skills and writing. I’ve been taught to encourage and embrace diversity. All of these have validity. I was told to love my students, and I do. I didn’t realize that it was necessary for me to teach love as well. For some people, love comes easier than others. Some have more exposure to it. Yet others have only the conflicting and misleading images of love from our society and culture where “anything goes” and some forms of diversity are embraced a little too much, in my opinion. We wrote about what love means to us as individuals. I was surprised at how quickly some students wanted to share and pumped that we had finally found something we could all relate to.

. Then we came to the portion of the book that includes I Corinthians 13, you know, what’s often referred to as “The Love Chapter” in the Bible. We consulted and delved into the primary source, being the chapter in the Bible. We analyzed the text and processed it, compared and contrasted our lived experiences with those of the characters in the book. But most importantly, we all came to examine our lives and relationships. We learned that love is more than an emotion we are caught up in at the moment. Love is a commitment, whether it is husband/wife, boyfriend/girlfriend, parent/child, teacher/student, or friend /friend. We learned what love is and what love isn’t. My students helped me to take a long, hard look at my own life, relationships, and interactions with people.

In some places of the world, we couldn’t have those conversations. There may come a time when Sparks’ book is banned, and the opportunity to discuss I Corinthians openly in a classroom setting is not allowed. I may get a phone call from an angry parent when this hits the press, who knows! But for now, it isn’t banned, and our lessons were aligned with state standards. Not taking advantage of the opportunity to share and learn about love would have been tragic, and I must answer to standards higher than the state.

At one point, the room was silent, and I couldn’t buy a comment from my most talkative bunch. One student said, “Mrs. Rorrer, you really got me thinking!” I was joyous and sad all at the same time. Their silence was an indicator that their brains and hearts were working; their tough guard had been momentarily let down. I realized that for many, this was the first time they had really thought about the subject, and even sadder, some may have no real influence of love in their lives. It’s not possible for me to answer life’s hardest questions…the kind that aren’t found on any exam or EOG Test…the kind they struggle with deep inside and cover with a superficial smile. In other words, as their English teacher, I will never know the full extent of the influences they encounter beyond the parameters of my classroom. I don’t force my beliefs on them, but I do encourage them to share their beliefs through writing and discussion when applicable. These formats help them process and make sense of the complex world in which they live.

Love is our greatest challenge and largest responsibility as teachers and parents. Teenagers are tough. They have thick skin. But when you take away the i-pods, cell phones, hip clothes, and punk attitude, one thing is sure. Our children want to know what love is. More than that, they want to know that they are loved.

Letter to my First Year Students

June 1, 2011

Dear Students,

The end of the year is upon us. I know the past few weeks have been hard. The air outside is warmer and we all have summer vacation on our minds. Soon our time together will be over, but before you go, there are a few things I’d like to share.

I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for putting up with me. As students of a first year teacher, you have had much to endure. Not all the lessons have gone like I planned. Sometimes, I should have been better prepared. I haven’t handled every situation perfectly, but I tried to do the best I could at the time. Some things were easier than others and you know there were many times when you resisted along the way. Some times, it may have been hard...but other times it was way too easy. You’ve seen me happy, sad, frustrated, mad…and I remember seeing all of you the same way at some point or another. None of us are perfect. All we can do is try, and admit mistakes when we make them. We can learn from the mistakes and demand more and better of ourselves in the future. You have shaped the teacher I am, the teacher I want to become, and the teacher I will strive to be. Each individual, no matter how talkative or quite, young man or young woman, has had an impact on me. YOU are my first-year students. I know you will not be forgotten.

We survived research papers and vocabulary quizzes. I thought Senior Project would be the death of all of us, but we’re still kicking! We endured short stories and novels. You wrote in your Daybooks, even when I know you didn’t want to. I love literature and I love writing…but I also love young people, or else I wouldn’t and couldn’t be here. The things I will remember the most about this year together are the discussions we had, the times we laughed, and even the times you thought I was crazy and you laughed at me.

There are many of you whom I have known since the spring of 2010, when I stepped into the room as a student teacher. I have watched you grow and mature. You have done the same with me. When it seemed like I was pushing you too hard, just remember it was because I know how capable you really are. Gaining responsibility and learning are not things you do only in school. Soon, you all will leave this place and you will encounter more responsibility and learning than I could ever teach you in a classroom. In twenty years, it won’t matter who Thoreau was or what Gilgamesh encountered on his journey. What matters is your journey, the choices you make, the challenges you embrace, and the commitment you have to achieve your personal best for success. I don’t have all of the answers for you, but I hope to have taught you to ask the questions and seek the answers from your heart and mind.

I will remember talking with you, as individuals and as a class. I will always remember laughing with you, too. Sometimes we laughed because things were really funny. Sometimes we laughed because the only other thing to do was cry. And sometimes, we did cry, and that’s OK too. When you leave this class, there will be new challenges ahead. I hope your time at Morehead is enjoyable and memorable in positive ways. It has been an odd feeling for me to walk the halls and teach in the same room I once sat in as a student. You have made me recall and consider those experiences, not all of which were positive. But, I can assure you, you can make it out of here and far in life if you commit to try. You will blink, and high school will be over. Make the most of it by making wise choices, planning for the steps ahead, and choosing your friends wisely.

In retrospect, I hope you will look at your high school experience and consider the life skills you are learning and have learned. Life is our greatest teacher and the world is our greatest classroom. The real questions have nothing to do with MLA guidelines, formatting your outline, or grammar rules and work sheets. A few of the real questions are: Can you finish something you start? Can you meet deadlines and plan your work? (Whatever the “work” might be.) Can you communicate your thoughts and opinions in such a way as to give yourself a voice, but have the wisdom to know when that voice should be a subtle whisper or a strong sound against injustice? Can you defend your position without causing undue harm or offending when it’s not really worth it? Are you willing to risk being offended when there is no one to defend you, when the cause is worthy of sacrifice on your part? You don’t have to be able to answer these questions all at once. They will present themselves at various times throughout your life, and in many levels of relationships. Just never forget to slow down, take a minute, and ask these questions of yourselves.

I wanted to give you some quote or passage to pass on to you for encouragement down the road. Here is a copy of something my daddy shared with me when I was in high school. I hadn’t remembered it in years, until I came across it during the middle of our semester, and the words really seemed to speak to my heart.

Remember This:
To solve each problem one at a time.
Take each day as it comes.
Stick to your goals—no matter what happens.
Press toward your dreams.
Keep your attention focused on the future as you consider the solutions at hand.
Look for the bright side—even though it may be temporarily covered by a cloud.
Smile often—even when a frown feels more natural.
Think of those you love and know that they love you, too.
No matter how difficult it may seem, you have within you the power,the ability,and the knowledge to make things better.
And always remember that I am proud of you and I love you.

Do not be strangers once our time is over. I look forward to your smiles, your laughter, and your hugs that mean more to me than you can possibly imagine. Room 84 will always be open to you.

With Love,
Mrs. Amanda Rorrer

Letter to my Daddy

"I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all."
-- Laura Ingalls Wilder

Dear Daddy,

You really gave me a scare last week, and everyone else that loves you, too. I had planned a birthday surprise for you, but it was nothing major, just cake and ice cream and our family get-together. I didn’t get you a present to open. As I thought about things and the events that unfolded over the next few days, I regretted that I didn’t have a gift for you.

As I was wondering the gift shop at the hospital, I really felt out of sorts. I had stepped away from the room to make some phone calls, clear my head, and just make sense of all that had happened. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but really, God showed me what it was.

I’ll never forget the look you gave me as you lowered your glasses and saw the price tag when I brought back the coffee mug. (Sorry, I forgot to take it off.) You asked me if I really paid $14 for a coffee mug. The answer is no—I paid $28 for two. I know you have a gazillion mugs, but you didn’t have one like this, and neither did I. And no, it wasn’t the mug that God was showing me, but the message behind it.

The inscription on the mug says: Appreciate the little things, because one day you’ll back and realize they were the big things. My eyes welled up with tears when I read the words. As I turned the mug in my hand, I saw the figure watering the small bush and the larger tree next to it. My tears were no longer contained in my eyes; they were streaming down my face. I know it’s not even scripture, but I think that is one of the neat things about it. God reveals Himself to us in ways that surround us all the time. Sometimes I let myself become consumed with things that I make out to be big things, when really, they are small potatoes in the grand scheme of life. That’s part of being human, and sometimes God likes to slow us down and make us reconsider our perspective.

I immediately thought of you and of those I love the most in this life. I thought of your love of flowers and the outdoors, and how you instilled in me that same love. I realized that my happiest childhood memories are of us working together in the yard. My happiest memories as an adult are times I have spent working in the flower and vegetable gardens with Robert and Lydia. I remembered Nannie and how much she loved flowers. I remembered how you taught me the names of them and how Nannie sang to them to “get them to grow.” I’ve tried to pass this love on to Lydia. We’ve had her in the dirt since before she could walk and I’ve taught her the names as well. Robert works with her patiently in the vegetable garden, just as his grandpa did with him.

You see, I can’t put a price on those memories. I don’t need a mug to remind me to remember, but I thought you could think of me and I of you when we can’t be near and know how much we love each other. God reminded me that the little things in life should be the things we cherish the most. He did this in a way that was much more personal than any cheesy “priceless” MasterCard commercial. I answered by saying, “Ok God, you’ve got my attention. Thanks for saving my Daddy. I promise to pay more attention to the little things that I am so blessed to have. I’m trying to do the right thing in so many different directions of my life, I still make mistakes, and I need you to show me what the right things are.”

There in the hospital, you told me that everything happens for a reason, and God never puts more on us than we can handle. Even in the midst of things, you were comforting and parenting me. The thought of not have you as a presence in my life was very bleak and scary, but I know it is a part of growing up, growing older, and living life. There is no possession that could compare or replace those who I love the most. I spent years searching to fill a void because I didn’t have the capability at the time to realize the love surrounding me or the importance of the little things. I went to Texas and back, came home with an empty heart, and only then did I begin to treasure the little things that family provides. Over time, and with maturity, God has granted me a wonderful husband and beautiful daughter that have shown me more love than I thought I was even worth at times. They have helped me prioritize what is important and view life with a larger perspective. Our love is not found in grand things, but in small things we often take for granted. I think it all comes down to what a person’s view of big and small really is proportionately, in one’s heart and head.

I am thankful that I have a house, which is a necessity in life. It may not be the biggest or most fancy house, but it is ours and we have made a home. There is always a stack of bills that must be paid, but our table is blessed and our bellies are full. For us, these are the big things. We work for them and we have pride in what we do, but at the end of the day, it’s the little things that provide us with joy. Little things include: sitting in the front porch swing and planning our future, snuggling and laughing during Scooby Doo cartoons, reading bedtime stories, a refrigerator covered with memories and artwork, a note on the counter that says “I love you,” tomato sandwiches for breakfast, a dog at my feet after a hard day’s work, talking to you on the phone for an hour and not even realizing that an hour has passed, a kiss on the cheek for no reason at all, the sound and feeling of laughter with family, and evening walks.

We were more than lucky on April 10th, 2011, and that’s no little thing. I love you very much and I appreciate all that you are to me.

Love,
Amanda

Rainy Days

"Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands." ~Anne Frank

My daughter loves the Disney Princesses. Her favorite one has always been Ariel, the Little Mermaid. For her third birthday, I bought her an Ariel umbrella. It was a just a cheap child’s umbrella, but she loved it a lot. She loved it so much that it seems I have been buying an Ariel umbrella every six months for the past two years. I’ve figured out that the average life-expectancy of a cheap umbrella in the hands of my daughter is about six months. Each time one breaks, we have to get a new one, and no other Princess will do. She has carried Ariel proudly on every rainy day since Preschool, and now, well into Kindergarten. Last week, it was pouring down rain and she opened the umbrella to find it broken. “Great. Way to go,” I thought. But when I saw the look on her face, I knew that her heart was in worse shape than the umbrella.

We ventured out on that rainy Sunday to find a new one. I was secretly hoping that we could find one with Ariel, but trying to prepare her for the possibility that it might be time to let Ariel go. I was worried that our lucky streak was going to run out and she would have to settle for another character. Sure enough, there were no Ariel umbrellas, but I did find one with Hannah Montana on it. “Oh, Look! Hannah will do,” I told her, thinking it would be an easy sell for a five-year-old. And it was, until she saw a pink and black one with Sleeping Beauty on it. “Oh no, you don’t want that one. It’s way too big,” I told her. But she was certain that she had grown enough for “a big-girl umbrella just like Mommy.” I opened it in the store to prove my point to her, that she really couldn’t handle an umbrella that size, yet she was confident she could, so I let her try. I realized that with a little help and practice, she really could open and close it, and away we went with the big umbrella.

We practiced opening and closing it at home. Her little arms could barely stretch to open it all the way, but she managed. She pinched a finger when trying to close it, and she cried. She tried again and again. All afternoon she practiced with that thing. At that point, I hoped it was going to last six hours, never mind six months. She learned to adjust her grasp to push it open and use the release button to close it without pinching herself. For the next three days, she asked, “Do I get to use my new umbrella today? I really want it to rain!” Her big “rainy day” finally came and she couldn’t wait to take her umbrella to school and show her friends. She was so excited when she jumped out of the car at school that I didn’t even get my usual good-bye kiss.

She sprung from the car and rushed right up to two friends on the sidewalk. I watched through the window as she talked a mile a minute, and although I couldn’t hear the conversation, I had a pretty good idea of how it was going. I could see the excitement on her face, but she was having trouble getting it to stay open. As I peered through the window, a huge piece of my heart was aching while I watched my baby standing in the rain, desperately trying to open her new treasure. “Come on. Hold it like you practiced. Lord, please help her get that thing open,” I said out loud. By then, she had quite a gathering of friends with their own umbrellas who had stopped to see hers, but she still couldn’t get it completely open. The car line was moving and I had to go, but I watched impatiently in the mirror for as long as I could.

As a parent, even something this simple was hard for me. If I had been standing next to her, I could have helped her, or at least coached her through it. My first instinct would have been to just open it for her, so that she could show her friends. At that moment, it hit me: I can’t always be there for her to open the umbrella, to shield her from the rain, and see that she is successful in her endeavors. At little points that come all too quickly in life, I have to step back and let her have a go at things on her own.
Although I drove her to school that day, I had taken a “back seat” before her feet ever hit the sidewalk. She didn’t turn around to wave goodbye like usual, and she had no idea I continued to watch and secretly cheer her on. The older I get, the more I recognize the wisdom my daddy dispensed during my childhood and my turbulent teenage years. It must have been difficult for him to watch me make my own choices and inevitably, some mistakes. Some choices weren’t always the best ones, but in retrospect, I know that he was always watching and praying for me. Sometimes the greatest help a parent can give a child is not a “handout” or “help up.” The greatest help is to be a strong example. Thanks Dad, you’ve always been that for me.


There will always be rainy days and times when even an umbrella (or a parent) can’t protect us from the storms of life. Sometimes the situations and plans we imagine don’t turn out the way hope or anticipate. No amount of preparation, planning, and rehearsing can insure that life’s situations will always work in our favor. But chances are, if the parents have laid the groundwork for a strong foundation, a child will be able to stand on his own. As a parent, I try to give her all the necessary tools for success and the wisdom to know how to use them. But ultimately, it will be up to her to define what her success and future will be. She will make the choice to use the wisdom or “learn the hard way.” I’m not a perfect parent, but I know that my daughter was the brightest and most beautiful thing I saw on that rainy day. I wasn’t able to see if she got the umbrella open before I drove away, but I wondered all day, because I knew how important it was to her. When I got home that afternoon, she had a story to tell that shined with accomplishment.

MAMA'S GIRL

Rerunning

“The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg—not by smashing it.” ~Ellen Glasgow

It’s been a while since I wrote anything related to running. There was a good reason for that: I hadn’t been running. One year ago, I was always training for some race, while working towards several goals simultaneously. Running helped keep my mind focused. My goals were clear and defined. I was filled with purpose and completely sure of myself, my abilities, and the path that God was leading me down. I juggled school and family responsibilities. I was successful at preparing to be successful.

Then came graduation, turning thirty, worrying about job prospects, getting a job, and diving head first into teaching. Admittedly, the final transition from the student’s world of the classroom to the professional side, as the teacher of a classroom filled with 3o plus students, was eye-opening. Add extra family obligations, sickness, the death of my grandpa, injuries which led to a forced lay off from running, and I quickly began to feel like I was a mess of mass confusion! I no longer had those clearly defined goals; nothing was giving me that extra drive. I was no longer pushing….I felt like I was being pulled and dragged. The good habits I had worked so hard to make routine quickly began to fade as time passed. In just a few months, my life felt rearranged, like someone else was behind the wheel and refusing to show me the map! It was a struggle just to keep up, so I could forget about getting ahead. I was in survival mode, but I sure didn’t want to stay there. I was definitely in a slump, and as Dr. Seuss puts it, “Unslumping yourself is not easily done.”

Some days, I didn’t know if I was coming or going. The work never seemed finished at the end of the day and my “to-do” list was never-ending and ever-growing. Henry David Thoreau said, “Methinks my thoughts begin to flow when my legs begin to move.” I wanted to move again because I knew my mind would function better and I could deal with things easier if I carved out the time for exercise and returned to making it a priority. For me, as many others, there’s a correlation between mental and physical well-being. They go hand-in-hand, and when one is neglected, the other quickly follows suit. So I’ve been starting over, from ground zero for exercise. Run/walk intervals aren’t very fun for someone who once trained for half marathons. And hearing the words, “Your long-run days are over” has been hard to accept. Two years ago, a long run would have been 13-15 miles. Four years ago, I would have laughed if someone suggested running. Eight years ago, I was having surgeries on my left leg and was told at one point, “You’ll probably always have a slight limp.” So when I look at it that way, I’m more grateful for the ability to run at all. And then I wonder why I expected teaching to be any different. Just like the run/walk intervals are slow and painful in the beginning, so is teaching. It’s not a job that comes with instant results or rewards. It took me 30 years to get here. It may take 30 more to feel only slightly accomplished.

It has taken me over a month to build back up to a fraction of the distance I used to run in a day. It took the entire first semester of teaching to feel like I could breathe. But I have realized that for me, running is not about time, speed, or distance. It’s about a commitment and dedication to move, to be active, to feel alive. It’s about a determination to resist quitting, even when that would be the easiest thing to do. Whereas teaching, on the other hand, is about time, speed, and distance. It takes time to gain experience. Sometimes I have to slow down and really listen to what my students are saying. And, I have to be willing to go the extra distance for them. As a runner, I won’t quit on myself. As a teacher, I won’t quit on my students. I realized the drive I needed to give that extra push is right in front of me: it’s my students. Entering the professional world of teaching doesn’t mean that I am automatically accomplished. I have to move one step, one day, one class at a time to become more proficient. But I am applying that same level of determination and commitment to the classroom as I do to pounding the pavement. Neither one is easy, nor is the work ever done.

While running through a portion of the neighborhood I grew up in, I pushed pause on my i-pod. Only then could I hear the laughter of some boys playing football, the sounds of banging coming from a garage, the sirens of an approaching fire truck, and the crunch of the empty Newport box I crushed on the sidewalk. I realized that even if I were walking, or rolling in a wheel chair (which could have easily been my fate after that car crash), I would still be moving. And isn’t that the point of life? To always be moving? It’s time to rethink some goals, redefine my purpose, and move forward. It’s not about changing careers or locations. I am right where God has placed me for a reason. Moving forward means improving what it is that I already do. It means continuing to learn and gaining experience. Moving forward means resisting the temptation to become complacent and indifferent. (Or worse than that, content with mediocre or cynical). Maya Angelou says that if you can’t change the way something is, change the way you look at that thing. The answer is often inside of you, not in front of you. I was waiting for answers to drop out of the sky, when really, they were there the entire time. I just needed to be patient with myself and remember why I started running and teaching in the first place.


The qoute at the bottom of this poster reads:"Determination is the often the first chapter in the book of excellece." This poster is now hanging in my classroom.

Raking Leaves and Imperfections

Put your works into the hands of the Lord, and your purposes will be made certain. Proverbs 16:3

I was raking my grandmother’s yard the other day. Every leaf had fallen from the trees and her sidewalk and steps were covered. The path to her car was obscured and for her safety, the leaves needed to disappear. I looked around the yard and asked myself, “Where do I even begin?” I started at the top of the hill and raked the leaves downward, thinking I needed to work smart, not hard. As I raked, I couldn't help but imagine that the task would be easier if I had help. I began to reminisce about my grandfather, who recently passed away, and about how much fun this task must have been for aunts and uncles who always did this job together growing up. I could see the yard filled with my aunts and uncles and I imagined them at different ages. I remembered holidays I have shared there with cousins and my heart ached.

I began to think about how sometimes our lives are like the yard scattered with leaves. There’s complete chaos and we don’t even know where to begin to pick up the pieces. Once again, I wished I had some help to rake those leaves into piles. I raked and I raked. My arm began to cramp and my back hurt, but finally I had five huge piles. I stopped for a break and went inside for a drink. I sat with my grandmother and we talked for a while about how things were when she was raising her children, all seven of them. I felt a little refreshed and returned to work. When I went back outside, I realized that those leaves which were once scattered were now in nice little piles, but only half the work was done. I couldn’t leave them there. One strong wind would simply scatter them all over the yard again. I began thinking about how if our lives are like the yard scattered with leaves, sometimes it takes work to pick up the pieces and rake them into piles. Sometimes we’re scared to do this. We know it will be back-breaking work. And sometimes, we’re scared of the dirt and mud we might find under the leaves…the fragile and imperfect pieces of ourselves are exposed once the work has begun.

I tried to put the leaves into some small bags. I quickly realized I needed something bigger and stronger. I found some lawn and leaf bags, which were much more sturdy and durable. God is like the strong and sturdy bag. He wants us to pile all of our faults and disappointments, hopes, confidence and love into Him. He alone is strong enough to handle it. It does us no good to work ourselves to complete exhaustion if we are only going to hold on to the piles of leaves in our lives. Even if we leave the piles by the road for someone else to pick up, we are not taking full responsibility for our task, whatever the task might be. And even still, we run the risk of one strong wind scattering the leaves and all the hard work is null and void. We have to have somewhere to put the leaves, and we have to really get down and dirty if we want the work done. I looked at my hands, which were dirty, but I looked back at the five bags I had already filled. I felt only halfway accomplished. There was much more work to be done.

My daughter came outside to help me and I would hold the bag open as she tried to put leaves inside. As I watched her, I noticed some stubborn leaves that would fall right back to the ground every time she picked up a pile with her little arms. I thought how the leaves that wouldn’t stay in the bag are like our little imperfections, our weaknesses, our faults, our sins, and our addictions. The leaves that won’t go easily into the bag are those things we have a harder time giving to God and just letting Him handle. But God waits patiently, for us to make the decision to make a full commitment to the task at hand.

As we continued working, my daughter said, “Mommy! I can’t rake anymore because my rake is full of leaves!” Right then I realized that the rake is just like our hearts…sometimes we have to stop and pick the leaves from the rake in order to keep on going. The leaves on the rake are the burdens, sins, and imperfections that clutter our heart, and sometimes we just need a good cleansing. I carefully instructed her to pick the leaves from the rake and place them into the bag. Every few minutes, we had to stop and clean our rakes. But how often do we stop and ask God to cleanse the leaves from our hearts? I shared this story with my daughter as we worked in the yard and filled bag after bag of leaves. Believe it or not, it was a simple metaphor that even a five-year-old could understand.

My grandmother came out to check our progress and I shared this idea with her as well. At that moment, I think we both recognized that God has placed help for us in all directions. We have to be willing to ask and then to accept. No one should go through pain and grief alone and there is not a person on Earth who has to. God can clean the scattered leaves, heal broken hearts, and mend shattered lives. Just as we finished our job, the snowflakes on December 5th began to fall. I looked to the sky and thanked God for His ability to send a miracle just when I needed to be reminded of His awesome wonders.




PS....I take no credit for these photos...I simply searched for images from the web that I thought were appropriate for this piece of writing.

If this is reality, I'm not interested....

The title is stolen from my young and vibrant "fashonista" cousin....who I was so privileged to spend my Thanksgiving with. I love you Hillary and thank you for listening to all of my ramblings....you are wise beyond your years....And as one other cousin said, "There are many colors of life are not always pretty..."









A dark room
With closed curtains
That light cannot penetrate.
A world where I cannot hurt others
And I can feel no pain inflicted upon me.
A place where I
Lock myself away
And I alone begin to pick up the pieces
Of my broken self.
Where dreams of loved ones gone
Do not haunt my sleep.
Like a beaten dog
Left to lick my own wounds
Growling at any human touch
That tries to say,
“Let me help you.”

And now, some Red Hot Chili Peppers to reiterate how I feel right now...
Scar Tissue
Scar tissue that I wish you saw
Sarcastic mister know it all
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you cause
With the birds I'll share
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”
~Howard Thurman

"I Am What I Am"

I am one who embraces the challenge.
I am one who does what others only dare.
I teach and I reach…
Though they may be far and few between.
At the end of my years, I will reflect and know,
Think and say,
Speak and feel,
All that which I have become.
All that I have embraced,
Even that which was difficult--
Because I rose to the challenge
And I was firm in my convictions.
I loved the challenge and the quest for answers—
Even the seemingly impossible ones.
I nurtured the thirst for knowledge by
never letting my own well run dry.
I am a woman who wonders, “ Do I do enough?”
Or, am I doing too much? How much more of myself can I give?
I do what I do because I am what I am.
I am a wife, a mother, a teacher, a daughter, a niece, a granddaughter, a friend.
I am what I am.
I am a work in progress,
Never perfected and in constant need of refinement.
This is me and I am what I am.
I am a poet whose words are often unrhymed.
I am a writer who writes what is on my mind.
I keep trying and I practice.
I practice to perfect an art, knowing that perfection is an unattainable goal—
Only a point to strive toward.
My heart is on my sleeve and that is only because
I am what I am.
I am a lover of the written word, the ability to speak one’s mind, and the inspiration to find one’s voice.
I am human and I am often sidetracked by the realities of life and the pains of death.
I am a writer who struggles to find the words that fit perfectly on the page—
Regardless of how those words are interpreted by those who know me less than myself—
By those who think they know me.
I am a teacher who teaches respect,
Knowing that the hidden curriculum has a place of importance
And respect for one’s self and others will benefit my students
farther in life than any multiple choice test.
I am strong, but even I need reassurance and positive reinforcement to do
the insurmountable tasks that consume my day.
Even with strength comes doubt---
But I have a higher power whose voice reminds me
that He has made me who I am.
And He gives me a will to strive to do more.
Never to be perfect, but always changing,
Always learning, and always growing,
Which is the essence of life.

“You have a choice. You can throw in the towel or use it to wipe the sweat off your face.” ~Gatorade

When I look back on the time in my life when I began running, I have to laugh at myself. I wouldn’t say I was introduced to running. Rather, running just introduced itself to me. My first feeble attempt at running happened by accident. It was a half-hearted attempt to rush through a one mile walking workout. That first lap around the track almost killed me. I remember collapsing onto the ground, flat on my back, and staring at the bright blue January sky. I could have sworn the earth was spinning as I desperately tried to catch my breath and simultaneously coughed up half a lung. I almost crawled back to my car and prayed that no one actually saw what I considered a total disaster. I was worn out and sore for days, but I couldn’t let myself believe the result of that effort was all I was “capable” of. So, I went back out to the track. For a month, I began running a little every day. I set a goal to be able to run one mile without stopping or keeling over, gasping for breath. I told no one but my husband, who honestly didn’t understand where this new “one mile” goal was coming from. Nine months later, despite many sarcastic remarks and insane looks from some family and friends, I ran my first half-marathon. I crossed that finish line, my first one ever, and it was official: I was a runner.

I still catch sarcasm and crazy comments from my friends, but I just smile when they call me “Forrest Gump.” Sometimes I think the only people who understand my need to run are my husband and my daddy. But then I remember that there are millions of other people who have running fever and sign up for races all across the country during every month of the year. We can’t all be crazy!

In 2007, I adopted my dog Sophie. She quickly became my new and preferred running partner. She lifted me out of a “running rut” and kept me going out to run in the cold. I remember climbing a steep hill in my neighborhood one day with Sophie. She was right by side, matching me step for step, when a neighbor shouted, “Hey! Who’s pulling who up that hill?” I replied with the first thing that came to my mind. “We’re a team!” I shouted back.

I’ll always love to run with Sophie, but now I have a new team to run with. They are 21 boys and girls who make up Morehead’s Cross Country team. They call me “Coach” and sometimes when I hear that name, it still takes a second to remember they’re talking to me. I’m new at this coaching thing, and I never played organized sports, so I don’t have a great mentor to model my coaching philosophy after. I’ll be the first to admit that I am learning as I go, but I know two things for sure: I love running and I love my team.

Working out with the team has forced me to return to the basics of running. I’ve had to lay down the ipod and reconnect with the sound of my feet hitting the ground. Before coaching, I could run without the conversation of others, but I never wanted to run without music. Now, the music that fills my ears is the sound of the team cheering each other on as we run hill repeats. And somehow, everyday, each member of the team returns for more. More running, more pushing our limits, more soreness, more sweat. We haven’t won every meet, but our times keep improving. It’s like we all had to start with that very first lap. We know that the first lap, the first mile, and the first race may not be pretty; but we know we’re capable of more, so together we’re working toward our goals.

Some people think that winning is the most important thing, but for a runner, the most important things are often improving and finishing. Coach Skip Prosser said WIN meant focusing on “What’s Important Now.”

Grandpa Jack

Dear Grandpa,
My earliest memories of you are the five dollar bills you gave me each time I came to visit. I remember being the only little one for quite some time. I followed Jamie around and copied everything he did. He picked on me a lot, but you made sure I usually got my way.

I remember following you around to see whatever you were building or fixing at the time. You never shooed me away. You always told me all about what you were building and the names of your tools. You always let me think I was helping.

When I got older, I remember begging you and Jamie to play the guitar together. I would sit in the floor and listen, smiling from ear to ear. Grandma would tap her foot and sing along too. Those are my favorite memories.

I will never forget all the lunches I ate sitting with you and Grandma. I loved being in that kitchen with the both of you. I loved coming to your house that was more than a house. To me, that house where you created a home represented so many of the things I searched for throughout my life. That is where I found unchanging love and the connection to the pieces I was missing for so long.

Grandpa, you could always make me smile. Even when our days grew shorter, you and I would sit in the sunshine, drinking our Pepsi, and have our talks. Those are special talks that I will always cherish. I speak for all of your grandchildren, from the very oldest to the very youngest, when I say that we are proud to be your grandchildren. As my Lydia said, the one thing we will remember the most about our Grandpa Jack is loving you. We thank you and grandma for giving us a legacy of unchanging love, hard work, and family first. We are not perfect, but that’s not the important thing. We are FAMILY and that is what matters most.

Love,
Amanda

Summer School

“Get over the idea that only children should spend their time in study. Be a student so long as you still have something to learn, and this will mean all your life.” ~Henry L. Doherty

When I look back at the summer of 2010, I will remember a time when I learned several things. I believe that we are never too old for learning and that changing from lessons learned is a part of what keeps us alive inside.

The time I spent with my husband this summer has taught me that couples must not forget each other. After the kids are grown and gone, the love and passion that sparked the relationship must remain. I learned this from long bike rides with my husband, when we counted the deer and bunnies on country roads. And from the long summer evenings when we sat on our front porch swing and listened to the rain while making plans for our future. I’ve learned just how much I love my husband, my best friend.

I’ve spent time with young people this summer who have taught me about play and imagination. Watching my little sister and my daughter play house and shopping just like grown-ups has reminded me that children have huge imaginations; but their play, conversation, and habits are imitations of what they see and hear from the real adults in their lives.

I’ve learned a thing or two about joy. My pastor reminded me of three things that are likely to rob a Christian of his or her joy. They are: circumstances, things, and people. Who knows why people want to rob others of joy. It’s a question to which the answer eludes me. Maybe it’s because of jealousy or because they want to see us fail. People love to try to shake the confidence that a well-grounded and well-prepared person has in himself. The truth is, ninety nine people can tell us something positive, but one can be that person who always has something hurtful to say, bringing a cloud of negativity wherever he goes. I’ve learned to try hard to make it a point to be counted in the ninety nine, not the one.

Lastly, I’ve spent precious time with grandparents who are growing older and their time in this world is becoming shorter. My daddy always says, “The best thing you can spend on your children is time.” He always spent time with me, and in that time I watched him care for elderly people in our lives, some of whom were not even kin to us. Now it’s my turn to help care for others and I’ve learned that time is the best thing we can spend on anyone we love. Time is one thing I can give and not mess up or regret. Sometimes it’s hard to care for elderly loved ones…there are good days and bad. I could shut myself away and pretend that things are the way they’ve always been, or I can be there as much as possible. One thing’s for sure: if I’m not there, I miss the good days. I miss the times when there is a smile or a laugh; a hint of the person I knew as a child. And if I miss the good days, I have fewer positive memories to help me through the bad days.

I have enjoyed the time I spent with my grandparents over the summer. They are the pieces of who I am today and the links to a past that represents strength and courage. I am learning that growing older affects even the young, and while there is nothing that can stop it, I can give my time, my prayers, and my love. These are three things that any person deserves to be surrounded with, no matter his or her age.

Dinner for Two

“A travel adventure has no substitute. It is the ultimate experience, your one big opportunity for flair.” -- Rosalind Massow

Summer is here and that means vacation! I just returned home from a cruise to Jamaica and Grand Cayman Island. The cruise experience was a first for me and my husband, and so was vacationing with 60 other people that we know. We traveled with Melanie Pascal’s Dance Creations and our dancers had the opportunity of a lifetime to not only sail the open seas, but to perform on the cruise ship. Our dancers were awesome because they work hard and train with the best. From the moment we stepped onto the ship, memories were being made. Yet, the performance was definitely the highlight of our vacation. Aside from performing, if someone asks me what I will remember the most about life on board, I will tell them it has to be the meals in the dining hall.

Each night was an interesting evening of elegant dining with everyone attending dressed in his or her best. It was a chance for our group to see each other and catch up on all the fun stuff we had done that day. Our men dressed a little nicer and our ladies had the opportunity to dress up and feel pretty as we showed off our new dresses we bought on the islands. From the moment we entered the dining hall, we were waited on hand and foot. The Maître’d greeted us with a smile and the waiting staff pulled out the chairs for the ladies and placed our napkins in our laps. Fine China and sparkling glasses decorated each table. Bread was delivered to each person and water poured into our glasses as we looked at the menu and “ooohed and ahhhed” over the choices.

Each meal we enjoyed in the dining hall was extravagant. It was definitely a sight for this Southern girl to see! It was the type of dining where you have three forks, two knives, and two spoons- you think there’s no possible way each person could need all that silverware, but we did!

Appetizers preceded the entrees and each plate of food was fancifully decorated in the finest culinary style. Things got really interesting when everyone seated at our table ordered something different. It was so much fun to see each plate and hear one another’s reactions as we took that first mouth watering bite. There was strawberry soup with fresh mint, lobster bisque, prime rib, shrimp, veal parmesan, grouper, and too many other items to name. There were items I had never heard of, and some that I could barely pronounce, but we tried them all. And just when we were stuffed to the gills and didn’t think we could hold another bite, the dessert menu was placed in our hands. My favorite dessert was the warm chocolate melting cake that surely lived up to its name.

Our waiter assured us that each dessert was calorie free and that salt air has been known to shrink clothes. I didn’t believe the part about “calorie free” but I can testify to the fact that salt air really does shrink a person’s clothes! There was something special in store for us each night in the dining hall. There were magic tricks from the waiting staff or a big song singing after the meal. Some nights the waiters jumped onto the tables and danced for us right there in the dining hall. We crowded around and twirled our napkins in the air, clapping and raising our glasses in excitement.

The truly amazing part of the dining experience was our view of the ocean as we ate our meals. Our table was seated at the back of the ship where huge glass windows provided a breathtaking view as we sailed the Caribbean. As I looked around I wondered if this was how the first class passengers aboard the Titanic felt when they dined so exquisitely in their day. Sometimes the ship rocked and we could see the water in our glass shake. One night, we actually wondered if our plates would stay on the table, but they did.

As all good times must come to an end, so did our time aboard the Carnival Destiny. It’s back to the old grind and reality on land. It’s back to paper plates and paper napkins and only on fork per meal at the Rorrer household. That’s OK because we like the plain and simple, but it was nice to enjoy such elegance for one week!

Goodbye Twenties

“When we grow old, there can only be one regret - not to have given enough of ourselves.”
Eleanora Duse quotes (Italian Actress. 1858-1924)

Dear Twenties,
I am writing you this letter to tell you goodbye. I know we’ve been together for an entire decade, but Thirty will be here soon, and quite frankly, I think it’s time that I move on. At times, it really is hard to imagine life without you, but like it or not, you must let me go.

I’ll never forget you. After all, we went through quite a lot together. I remember when we first met. We thought we ruled the world, you and I. Everything was there for the taking and we set off on quite a few adventures. Remember when we moved all the way to Louisiana? Just me and you, we set off down that long Interstate 10 in that little Chevy that took us all the way to Cajun Country and our first apartment. Looking back, I wonder how we lived off of Raman Noodles and Mac-n-cheese for all that time. Oh Twenties, I look back on that time we spent in Mississippi, South Carolina, and Texas and I wonder how we ever made it home. Those were good times, and it was tough when they ended, but there were greater things in store for us. We tried to make a home there, but we knew all along where my heart was. That’s why at 23, we came back to good ole North Carolina, where people don’t love me because they have to…they love me because they want to.

At 24 we took that big walk down the aisle. There was a handsome man waiting there when we arrived. By the way, I think that was the smartest thing you and I ever did. At 25, more changes came our way. There were diaper changes and late night feedings; and all the joys of Motherhood. 26 and 27 went by so fast that it seems I blinked and they were gone. I should have realized then that I was beginning to outgrow you, Twenties. Life just changed for me. I mean, as a wife and mother and student, I just didn’t have time for all the childish things that used to occupy our time.

At 28, I realized just how important family really is, even though I thought I already knew. It was pretty mature of you, Twenties, to help me realize that we no longer have time for bitterness or petty quarrels. And, I have to say thank you for helping me see that this body of mine will give out one day, so I have to take care of it now. No, I’m not talking about wrinkle creams and crash diets, but I am talking about sunscreen, exercise, and a healthy lifestyle. It’s ok, I think Thirty will like running just as much as we do. There are some things a girl just can’t do without.

At 29, we finally graduated from college and earned that degree we worked so hard for. It seems like it took us forever, but all the while we had a goal and we stuck to it. I’m glad we did. But you see, now we have accomplished all we set out to do. It’s time for new plans, new goals, new dreams; and I have outgrown you. Life is short and I must do all I can in the time I have; so I must let you go, too. Don’t worry, you’ll find some other young girl with her whole life ahead of her, and you two will get along fine. (For the next ten years.) Oh, don’t try to tell me I can’t make it without you or that I’m getting old. Gray hairs don’t scare me; that’s the one thing there is a cure for! So go now, Twenties, you’re holding me back! I’ll never forget you, but I need this change in my life.

Love,
Me

A New Journey Begins...

“We do not understand the intricate pattern of the stars in their courses, but we know that He who created them does, and just as surely as He guides them, He is charting a safe course for us.” ~ Billy Graham

The author T.S. Eliot wrote, “The end is also a beginning. The end is where we start from.” Now that my college graduation has come and gone, I see the truth in these words. As I sat at commencement in my cap and gown, I smiled as I remembered that first semester when my husband had to help me with math homework. I remembered that first day I toured the campus of UNCG and cried because it was so big and I was sure I would not be able to find my classes. My husband took my hand and told me all the reasons why I could do it. I still remember the overwhelming feeling that I would be lost or somehow swallowed up in all of the vastness of the campus. I remembered the days I would sit and study on the bench beneath the shade tree, sipping coffee to stay awake, determined to pass the next test. Everything was new and different when I began this journey, but with each step, God saw me safely through.

One fellow graduate candidly told me that I had “worked too hard”, and that the journey would have been more fun if I “had a life.” I just smiled and looked into the stands where I could see all the parents and grandparents who gave me life and instilled in me the values of hard work and perseverance. It was them who had confidence in me, believed I could do anything, including the impossible, and told me so. I looked at my husband and my daughter and I thought about how rich and blessed my life really is.

The commencement speaker read Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken,” and as I heard those familiar words, I couldn’t help but think of all the roads that led me to that moment in time. Different choices would have meant different roads and ultimately, a different me. Like the traveler in Frost’s poem, I too have taken the road less traveled. Some might think my life has been backwards, that I should have completed college before having a family. But for me, that support system of strong husband and family has made all the difference.

After graduation, I now find myself at another crossroad in the woods. An end that is really a beginning. An opportunity and an empowerment to expand myself and spread my wings. For me, as so many other graduates, this is a moment in time where I hang in the balance and the future looks and feels uncertain. Everyone keeps asking me where I will go from here. Of course I have plans, but the truth is, I have learned not to put too much stock in my own plans, especially since I don’t control the future. I have done my part to finish this portion of the journey and to finish well. I know in my heart who directs my path and I am confident that He will continue to guide me.

As I end this journey and begin a new one into the unknown future, I realize that I am changed. But it’s not the degree that changed me. Rather, it’s the years that have passed and the occurrences they brought with them. It’s the challenges that have been met and overcome. It’s the knowledge I have gained from both books and life; it’s what I choose to do with that knowledge which motivates me to enrich the lives of others. No matter how uncertain the economy, the job market, or the future may seem, no matter what challenges are ahead, I know things will turn out fine. I will find the path that God has for me and fill a future that is uniquely mine. And so, let this new journey begin…

Dance to your Dreams...

“Dancing with the feet is one thing, but dancing with the heart is another.” ~Anonymous

When I was a little girl, I had a sign that hung on the wall in my room that read: Dance to your dreams. My favorite necklace charm was a tiny pair of ballet shoes and I wore it every day for years. I took dance classes for many years and I can’t imagine the thousands of dollars my parents shelled out year after year on shoes, leotards, costumes, classes, competition fees, time, and travel. I lived for dance and I had big dreams of becoming a famous dancer and actress. I never made it to Broadway, but I have kept a love of dance and theatre in my heart for many years.

Now my daughter takes dance and last week was recital week. This is an incredibly busy week that any family with a dancer in it living in this town knows all about. There are late rehearsals, suppers eaten on the run, and mornings that come too early. There are technical rehearsals, dress rehearsals, and finally, the real show. A year of time, effort and practice cumulates in this one week and it all boils down to the final show. Moms and dancers fill the dressing rooms. There are costumes of all colors, Capezio tights, bobby pins, hair gels, tons of make-up, cameras, body glitter spray, and too many shoes to count! Surely if all of us moms had sons instead of daughters, we could save a ton of money, right? We could buy cleats and ball gloves instead of pink tights and tutus. We could teach them about sportsmanship and never have to worry about pirouettes and pleas. The numbers 5, 6, 7, 8 would not be engrained into our heads.

But as a former dancer myself, I have to say that there is nothing that compares with the experience of the recital. There is one thing I gained from those years of dance class that money can’t buy. And rest assured that our daughters will gain it too. It takes confidence to jump on that stage like you own it, so just ask any dancer who loves really loves it what it’s like to perform. She’ll tell you that nothing compares with the experience of performing under bright lights that illuminate the stage, surrounded by music that pumps in your head and body, and before an audience whose claps and screams penetrate the dancer’s heart in a way that is indescribable.

The girls who begin dance in their early years and continue dancing through high school share a special bond. Their bond is the ultimate example of sportsmanship. They learn together, perform together, win together, learn together, and cry together. They learn to move together and think together; they must trust each other and encourage one another over the years. Without a doubt, they become a team. And without a doubt, they share memories that will last a lifetime.

My dancing days aren’t completely over. Anyone who knows me knows that I still love to perform. But now I get to share in that unique experience with my daughter. As a backstage mom, I get to stand in the wings when it’s her time to shine. I actually prefer the wings of the stage as opposed to the audience because there, no one can see me biting my lips and wiping my tears. I have more anticipation than she does as I wonder: “Will she nail her arabesque? Will she remember to smile? Will she make it to her color?” When I see her on the stage, any thoughts about money, or lack of sleep, or one crazy hectic week disappear. I see a dancer who loves the stage, loves to dream, and has the confidence to face the lights and people with grace and poise. And that is worth every penny I spend.

Letter to my 3rd block class...

Dear 3rd Block,
Over the last four months, you and every student in our class has found a special place within my heart. From the first day of class, you challenged me as a new teacher and I often wondered if I was teaching you anything at all. Now that our time together as a class has come to an end, I want to tell you that it was YOU who taught me more than I could possibly have taught you. It was your class that taught me what it really means for a teacher to love her students. You taught me that in order for me to remain in this profession for years to come as I have planned, I need to see my students as individuals and that I must love each one in a unique way. And now I feel as if I’m leaving you or walking out empty handed. It is hard for me to go, but we both must move on. I want to give you something to reflect on, some knowledge, some sort of wisdom; something as special as what you have given me. I remembered a piece of paper I keep tucked away that was given to me years ago by my 6th grade teacher. I didn’t understand this piece at the time, but I have read it over and over through the years and I have found it to be very inspiring. The original piece was written by Paula Bachleda, and she offers some advice to some of life’s basic questions.

Who? It took me a while to realize that this is probably the most important question of all. Take time to discover who you are and be your own person. Strive to be honest, respectful, and happy. When you are at peace with yourself, everything else will fall into place. Just be careful not to wrap your identity in possessions. Allow yourself to grow and change. And remember always that you are not alone—you have your family, your friends, your guardian angel and God (not necessarily in that order!).

What? This is the tricky one, and at first this question had me fooled. I thought the question was, “What will I do today?” However, I found that things got really interesting when I instead asked, “What is my passion?” Discover what it is that burns inside you and keeps you going, then nurture it. Take it apart and build it back together. Do whatever you want with it, but never let it from your sight. Do it because that’s what you love to do. The joy that it brings you will keep you going through some of the doldrums of life.

When? This is the sneaky one. Do not ignore it. It will keep you balanced. Some things are best done now. Procrastination usually just creates more work. But keep in mind that there is a season for everything, and keep in mind that some things are better left for another day. As hard as it may be, remember to take time to rest and enjoy the miracle of each new day. With practice, you will learn the pleasure of doing some things now and the unique delight of waiting and planning for others.

Where? Surprisingly, this is the easiest one. You will always have the answer with you if you keep your home in your heart and put your heart into wherever you call home. Be an active part of your community and you will discover the special charm that will endear it to you. Remember always that the simplest act of kindness can make a difference, and that you can change the world.

Why? Never stop asking this one. It’s the one that will keep you growing. Let it. Let it challenge you when you’ve become too complacent. Let it shout at you when you are making decisions. Let it whisper to you when you lose sight of who you are or where you want to be. But you also need to be careful with this one. Sometimes the answer does not come for years, and sometimes it doesn’t come at all. Recognizing that basic fact can keep you sane and allow you to move on.

How? Ah, this is the one on which I can’t advise you! This is the one you will answer in your own special way. Just remember to believe in yourself and in miracles. Remember that the greatest discoveries come after stumbling over questions. Never think you know enough to stop learning. Instead challenge yourself to learn something new every day. Never underestimate your abilities and don’t let anyone else either. You have the mind and the strength to do great things, but you must combine those with willpower and a positive attitude. Where ever you go, whatever you do, I’ll never forget you! Always do your best and make me proud!

Thoughtfully,
Mrs. Rorrer
“The Goodest”

Smell the Flowers

“Don’t count every hour in the day. Instead, make every hour in the day count.” ~Anonymous

Last week I stuffed 100 Easter eggs in preparation for “the big hunt.” I was grumbling under my breath because I was frustrated. I felt like there were many other “more important” things I needed to be doing. I was frustrated because time always seems so limited, no matter what I’m doing. I was sure I didn’t have time to be stuffing eggs with ridiculously overpriced candy that would end up being an unnecessary temptation in my kitchen. “Who needs all this candy?” I asked myself. “My child doesn’t need it and neither do my hips!” And then it hit me. One day my little girl will be too big for frilly baskets and egg hunts. Even Santa Claus and Halloween costumes will eventually lose their magic. She’s growing up too fast, I thought. That realization sent a pain inside my heart.

The next day, our family took a trip to Lowes. Our mission: buy a few flowers to fill the empty pots on the front porch and buy some vegetable plants to prepare for our garden. As I strapped my daughter into her car seat, she asked me to ride in the back with her. This is something she asks from time to time and when she does, my husband usually doesn’t mind riding with her. I grumbled at her request because I do not like riding in the back; but I realized she just wanted to be near me, so I climbed in next to her. Only by riding in the back could I experience the ride through her eyes: the eyes of a child. Yes, I had been grateful for the warm sunshine that day, but it was my daughter who had reminded me to appreciate it; to experience its beauty.

Everything was new and beautiful to her. Spring is finally here, and her eyes were filled with excitement as she pointed out scenes from the landscape. There were blooms on the trees, cows in green pastures, and wispy clouds against the background of a bright blue sky. I looked at her and saw that she had removed her shoes. She had propped one bare foot in the window and her soft brown hair was blowing in the wind. For a moment I was envious of my daughter. I wanted her carefree and joyous attitude. I wanted to be free from responsibility and worry.

Sometimes we’re so busy with the adult world of responsibility that we neglect to appreciate the everyday beauty that surrounds us. Worrying about responsibility does no good and it keeps us from enjoying even the simple things we encounter. When do we lose the ability to see things as our children do? At what point in our lives do we lose that sense of wonderment and excitement about the world and nature around us? Children are far smarter than we give them credit for. Often, it’s adults who are blind and oblivious to the natural wonders right in front of us! We see without looking, hear without listening, and we fail to feel because we don’t stop to embrace.

Time keeps passing, and I’ve always heard that the older we get, the faster it goes. But time doesn’t speed up – we just lose our childlike sense of wonder because we replace it with schedules, deadlines, and activities we think are important but could probably do without. Some of these things are important and inevitable, but every once in while it doesn’t hurt to ride in the back seat…just to enjoy the ride. My Nannie always reminded me to “Take time to smell the flowers.” That day it was my daughter who reminded me to pick a few too; so I did.



This is one of the flowers that we picked out that day. It was so unique that we just had to take a picture of it. Seeing this flower reminded me of the following poem...one of my favorites.

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

By: Robert Frost

Forgiveness

“Forgiveness is the economy of the heart…forgiveness saves the expense of anger, the cost of hatred, the waste of spirits.” ~Hannah Moore

I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately. It’s something that isn’t always easy. I’ve noticed that people of all ages and backgrounds seem to cling to hurt and wrongdoings in some form or fashion. I’ve also noticed that the impact is greater and has the potential to be the most negative when we are hurt by those who are closest to us. And, those we love the most are often the hardest to forgive.

Sometimes the things we need to forgive are greater than one simple thought, action, or deed. Sometimes it’s a series of actions or inactions that hold us back, weigh us down, and ultimately prevent us from leading the quality of life that God would have us lead. When we allow the weeds of animosity and anger to fester in our hearts, it grows fast, and before we realize, it can affect every aspect of our lives.

Isaiah 49:16 says, “Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.” This verse reminds me that God loved me and sent His Son to die on the cross so that I could have the security of eternal salvation and be forgiven of my sins. I interpret the “walls” in this verse to mean any obstacle in life. God has forgiven me, but if I fail to forgive others, those walls can easily become obstacles between me and God. I didn’t make this up, Matthew 6:14-15 says so. If I expect my Heavenly Father to forgive me, then I must forgive others. I need God’s forgiveness on a daily basis, so I had better be about the business of forgiveness.

How often do we ask for God’s forgiveness, yet continue to cling to those little disturbances imposed by others in our daily lives? How often do we ourselves need to be forgiven, but harbor feelings of resentment towards others?

This Easter, I will remember that it was for my sins that Christ was crucified. I will celebrate my Savior’s resurrection and remember the ultimate example of love and forgiveness from my Heavenly Father. I pray that I will be able to forgive others and receive forgiveness when needed. I hope that anyone reading this will do the same. Forgiveness is, after all, an act of love. We cannot have one without the other, and it takes both to survive.